


Feet Off The Sofa

by TheCrazyGeek



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Lazy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/pseuds/TheCrazyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Peter Capaldi/You fic. A lazy evening after filming turns to bedroom antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feet Off The Sofa

**Author's Note:**

> No offense or insult intended in any way shape or form to Mr Capaldi or his family. You're a hellishly sexy man and I think you definitely deserve some erotica :)

**

A Friday night in a nondescript flat in Wales.

He comes back from filming, tired and with a face red from scrubbing off the make-up they lavish on him for the cameras. He’s been fighting and outwitting aliens and saving people in distress and dealing with the long hours that making a TV series requires. But, even when he’s shrugging off his long black coat, too worn out to hang it properly, you can see the happiness in his eyes. He’s doing what he loves, what he’s always wanted to do and even on nights like this when he comes home tired he never loses that sparkle.

A Friday means a few days off, he won’t have to cram pages of lines into his head before tomorrow morning rolls around and he can finally relax a bit.

You order dinner, truthfully you had a long day at work as well and don’t feel up to cooking, and busy yourself putting the kettle on to make some tea for you both. It’s a habit Peter got you into and steadfastly refuses to believe it’s an ‘English’ thing to finish the day with a cuppa.

To him, it’s Scottish. Always will be.

He’s headed for the cleansing wash of a hot and brief shower, a holdover from his childhood in a Glasgow tenement there – never knowing when the hot water might run out – and it isn’t long before he’s humming Sinatra and then singing it full voice.

**

Dinner over, he slumps back on the sofa and drags your feet over to his lap, stroking them briefly with his long fingers before plonking his hands onto your ankles and sitting back. He turns round to smile at you briefly before turning his attention back to the television where an old rerun of Star Trek is playing.

Feeling a bit mischievous - you do have the great Peter Capaldi under your foot after all – you wriggle your feet into his lap and watch the screen like you have no idea what your feet are doing. His breathing hitches slightly but he makes no move to still your motion.

“Love. Your feet seem a wee bit active for someone who’s been at work all day.”

You keep your eyes on the television and press down slightly harder with your toes, resisting the urge to smile as you feel something stir under his trousers. “Dunno what you mean” you reply and yelp a bit as his fingers press into your instep.

“Darling, you’re a dreadful actress.” His voice is slightly husky as he starts to rub your feet. “You’d never make it in front of camera.”

“Just as well, since what I have in mind shouldn’t be filmed”

He laughs, one corner of his mouth quirking upward as he does and rotates his thumbs under your toes. “Dare say there’d be a market fer it somewhere, even with your shite actin’.” The motion of his fingers on your feet is heavenly enough to let him get away with that comment, so you let it pass. Foot-rubbing wasn’t quite your plan for the evening, however nice it feels.

Seems it’s not his plan either. Peter pulls at your ankles and shuffles down the sofa until you’re almost sitting in his lap, then crooks a finger and points at his legs. “Bored with feet now,” he says, “thought I’d see what other bits of ye need attention.”

“I thought you’d be tired after a long day being the brilliant world-famous actor?” you slide over until you’re astride his lap and settle down onto his long legs.

“The Doctor gets distracted easily, what can I say?” again with that grin, but this time he wraps his arms round your waist and pulls you toward him. No matter how many times you do this, it never gets boring; your hands moving to the nape of his neck, his mouth on yours, the faint sighs and appreciative moans he lets out when you kiss down his neck.

He’ll joke, often, in interviews about how he’s not really a sex symbol, and that he’s a wee bit past it, but the lie is stirring under your legs as you kiss on the sofa. He swallows a bit and asks if you’re feeling too tired to continue this - dear Peter, always looking out for others – and his lips curve upward in a bright and happy grin when you say that no, you’re definitely not too tired.

“Want tae take this to the bedroom then?”

**

The benefits of a flat also include a walk to the bedroom that doesn’t involve staircases and it far easier for you to keep various limbs wrapped around Peter as you make your way to the softly-furnished room.

Backed up against the bed, you carry on kissing him and stroking his gorgeously soft grey hair and make hardly a yelp when he puts a hand on the bed and lowers you down onto it. Quick as a flash, you have your legs wrapped round his hips and are trying to pull him down to lie on top of you.

“Less haste ye wee thing” he grins on one side of his mouth and pats you on the thigh – signalling you to move up the bed to where the pillows are – then pulls off the grey t-shirt and jeans he’d changed into after recording and crawls up the bed to you.

Comparisons to a silver-furred wolf spring to mind as he comes toward you, lithe as ever, his slender frame coming over to envelope you in his embrace. His arms and fingers are long and warm and when wrapped around you in a tight embrace feel something between comforting and arousing. He’s quite content to just hold you and brush his lips over yours for a while, murmuring endearments in a voice almost too quiet to hear. That soft velvety voice vibrates against your neck when you pull him tight against you and press hard into the skin on his back. He’ll purr when you do that; a session of ‘exploration’ when you first started seeing each other had revealed several sensitive spots on Peter’s spine and you know them all.

He can only take your nails (‘not too deep pet, I still have tae act for a living’) there for a few minutes before he’s unclasping and undoing the rest of your clothes and flinging them off the bed in all directions. Sitting back on his heels for a moment he looks down at your naked figure and shakes his head. “Jesus, when did I ever get this lucky?” he murmurs to himself and strokes a hand down your waist to your thigh.

Peter is a master with his hands, not only in acting but in artistry of all sorts and he’s stroking and massaging your skin in all the right places until you’re moaning with frustration and trying to clasp him tight to speed things along.

Tonight he takes pity on you and doesn’t draw things out even further. “Hush, none of that, ye got me, I’m here” his voice soothes the crawling urgent need in your body slightly and you can feel a sigh of relief escape your lips as he sheds the last remainder of his clothing and envelops you in a tight embrace.

“Ready?” he asks, and at your nod slides himself inside you in one easy movement. Your hands wrap around his back and grasp hold of his shoulders as he starts to move, slowly in, slowly out, rhythm matching his breathing.

He jokes about his age at times, and will protest now and then that he’s ‘getting too auld fer this shite’ but Peter is just as capable of a fast hurried rough-and-dirty got-to-have-you-now as he ever was. Many a time he’s demonstrated his learned skills by crashing you over into orgasm with just his fingers and 8 minutes; a skill that _doesn’t_ get mentioned outside of closed doors.

Tonight though, he’s going for his favourite: the slow, burning, but no less fulfilling gentle lovemaking that goes well with an evening in. He’s bracing one arm against the pillows while the other lies under your spine and you can feel the flex of his muscles each time he pushes into you.

The constant, unchanging, pace begins to stir a warmth deep in your body; like a heated coil that goes up a degree by each passing moment. Each time he drives his full length inside you, it makes the heat more urgent. “Oh God” you moan as it just keeps building, he makes a noise of pure aroused delight at your response and pushes even deeper inside you – never breaking pace. Just keeping that continual push of his body against yours; his hips pressing against your thighs.

His breathing is getting shorter though, puffs of air against your neck and the next time you moan at the ever increasing pressure between your legs you hear him answer with a stifled grunt and a whispered word. He must be getting close as well.

The pressure builds even further and soon you are grasping frantically at him, trying to pull him even harder against you, into you. You’re saying his name and a series of pleading words for him to go faster, harder, take you over the edge, oh God Peter please.

With one swift move he moves his head to capture your lips in a near bruising kiss and keeps you locked together like that while he speeds up. It’s almost a relief to feel him pounding in after such a long build-up and it’s not long at all until the burning and pressure in your body peaks to a near painful level.

He keeps his lips locked on yours while you cry out and writhe frantically under him as your orgasm finally hits. You’re still quivering and clenching through the powerful aftershocks when he groans against your shoulder and you feel him pulse rapidly deep inside you – coming just as hard as you did.

**

He’s snoozing against your shoulder, one leg draped over your body and an arm across your breasts. Looking down at his face reveals a tired but blissfully happy man, a sight you don’t think you’ll ever get bored of seeing.

You’ll let him sleep for now. Peter puts so much work into being both the Doctor and your lover that he deserves to rest now and then. Running a hand gently across his silver curls you smile as he murmurs something and burrows his head against your neck, his warm slow breathing against your skin beckoning you down into the depths of dreams along with him.


End file.
